Lately I have realized that even though I have lived in this house for more years then my parents have been gone, somethings still remain the same. Sitting on the shelves above my pantry are my moms cake stands, special pie holders, and her box of spoons from her "Kid's Spoon Band." A few of our cabinets still hold her Christmas decorations. My kitchen wall holds a mural that she started painting before she and my father moved, and we moved in, it is unfinished, but I love it all the same. Sometimes I just walk over to it and lightly place my hand over it...it is something she created, touched, and loved. In my living room I have a buffet they they used, a piano that my mom would sit and play at while she and my father sang together, oh how I miss listening to them sing together, they harmonized so beautifully! I also have a record player, that no longer works, but will always have a place in my home, because I remember how excited my father was when my mom bought it for him. These things are small, and I am sure mean nothing to anyone but me and my family, but they are a connection to my parents, one that I love being surrendered with. From where I sit, I can see reminders of them, of their love for each other, and for their family. There may come a day, when I no longer need these little reminders, but for now, I will keep them close, smile when I see them, and remember all the wonderful memories we made as a family.